Finally (A Storm and Silence Fanfiction) ✔️

5. Finally (Between A Rock and a Hard Place)

He was so close. It would be so easy to reach up and press my lips to his. To let my hands roam over that muscled body. To let him hold me in his arms. To feel like we were fire and ice colliding.

But that wouldn't give me what I really wanted. Even if my body, my traitorous body, was burning with desire, was dying to be held by his... It would just be a way for me to lose myself in pleasure. And even with - especially with - Mr. Ambrose, I never lost.

"The truth!" I blurted out before he could kiss me, or I could kiss him. "I want the truth from you! I want to know why you're giving money to my friends under a false name, and I want to know why you didn't want me to find out! And... and I want to know what C.J.C from L.L. Waste Disposal means!"

He stayed there, hovering above me. He hadn't even blinked during my outburst. Blast, the man was a statue! "Is that so, Mr. Linton?"

"Yes!" I tilted my chin up, to look him straight in the eye. Unfortunately - or was it fortunately? - it brought us even closer. "Yes, it is so."

Sadly, my words came out less defiantly and more breathily. That's because he is pressed so close to you he's squeezing the air out of your lungs, I told myself. He seemed even closer, the tip of his nose brushing my cheek.

"I see." Mr. Ambrose straightened - straightened - and moved away from me. I almost let a frustrated groan escape my lips. I felt cold all over, even though his icy gaze was no longer boring into mine. "Well, we had best get going, Mr. Linton, if the truth is what you want."

"Wait - what?" I scrambled to keep up as he opened his office door and began walking. "What do you mean?"

"I think, Mr. Linton, that we will find it much easier for me to show you the truth rather than tell you."

So there we were, him marching through the streets of London and me struggling to keep up. I suspected him of walking quickly on purpose to make sure I didn't have the breath to pester him with questions. As we made our way to whatever he had to show me, the streets got narrower, the houses more cramped, the buildings more dilapidated, and the people poorer, dirtier, and wearier. This was the part of town where all the workhouses were... did he have a factory here?

"Mr. Thompson!" A woman, dressed in little more than rags, ran up to Mr. Ambrose and grabbed his arm. In any other circumstance, I would have attempted to drag her far, far away from my employer, but right now I doubted she wanted to have any romantic attachments with him. In fact, the look on her face right now seemed to be of... gratitude? Gratitude? Who could be grateful to Rikkard Ambrose, unless it was for sparing their life?

"Mr. Thompson, thank you for your donation to the workhouses! We could not be more thankful."

Donation?

I looked at him in shock. I would have stepped back if it weren't for the pile of horse manure behind me in the road. What explanation could he have for this?

And as I watched... that stony face moved! His mouth, usually so stern and disapproving, turned upwards! Into a... into a smile! And then he said words! Not just any angry, cold words, but the very opposite!

"No need to thank me, Miss. If you'll excuse me, however, my secretary and I have some business to conduct." We moved past her, my mouth still hanging open though I could find no words to come out of it.

Had he just wasted precious time on... on manners? Of all things! "M-M-Mr. Ambrose. Sir. What was that? Did that woman just thank you? For donating? Money? To a workhouse?"

"Yes, Mr. Linton. Keep up! You are slowing us down. If you cannot walk and talk at the same time, pick one or the other!"